Flash Fiction #90

Nimrod

PHOTO PROMPT © Marie Gail Stratford

BABBLE

It was finally finished! Mr. Nimr Rad gazed about.  The entire penthouse level, the 159th floor of his towering needle in the sky, was his living suite and office.

The building had begun well, but it seemed that the higher they built, the more communication problems they had. At first, all the crews had spoken good English, but by the end, foremen seemed reduced to grunts, waving arms and pointing fingers.

From this, the highest point for hundreds of miles, he looked down upon the milling masses, and felt an almost God-like superiority.

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Fiction site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story,.

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He Said – She….Mumbled

Grammar Text

PENDARVIS’ THEOREM OF WHY THINGS WENT WRONG
It’s only a little bit off

As an OCD Word Nazi, I appreciate precision in all things, but especially in written and spoken English usage. I used to delight in watching the British comic, Benny Hill, not merely because he was a king of slapstick comedy, but because of his consummate control of language while doing it.

He also showed his dedication to linguistic precision with lines like, “When he said he was bent on seeing her, he meant he was bent on seeing her, not that the sight of her doubled him up.”  He complained that he had a bent wood chair in his dressing room; not a Bentwood chair, but a bent, wood chair, because of the damp in the basement.

A character with a funny accent could refer to the crime of man’s laughter, instead of manslaughter.  A skit might show an incorrectly hung sign for

Doctor Johnson, The
rapist

when it was really Doctor Johnson, Therapist.

I once had an aunt who was the epitome of imprecision. She often started conversations in the middle and worked toward each end, usually not reaching either.  It was common for her to toss out the likes of, “We went over to see him, but, of course, they weren’t home.  He wanted to go down there, but I said it was too late.  We walked to it, but I was right; it was Tuesday.”

(I hope)There was a lot going on inside her head that didn’t leak out through her mouth. I know there was a lot of alcohol involved, on both sides.  She was a ‘Lady’, and Ladies didn’t ‘drink’, although she wouldn’t refuse 6 or 8 medicinal toddies in an afternoon – or evening.  I often wondered if my Mother’s brother understood what she was talking about, or even cared.

Baby grammar seals

I recently read an article on the usages of ‘different from’ vs. ‘different than.’ It stated that ‘different from’ was accepted in all cases.  ‘Different than’ was considered proper usage only about 10% of the time – “so, one is more correct than the other.”

In the comments thread beneath, Polly Pedantic immediately struck like a stooping hawk. “Don’t you mean more nearly correct?”  No dear, they don’t!  If she’d paid a little more attention to both the article, and her own comment, she’d have seen that.

‘Nearly correct’ means incorrect, and the article plainly said that each was correct, only one more often accepted than the other.  It even gave rare examples of ‘different as’, and ‘different to.’

One single recent newspaper almost had me in tears. The headline read, ’Two youths killed when car sideswipes power pole.”  And there was the photo.  The car was wrapped around the pole in a C-shape, or a U, so, the writer doesn’t understand ‘sideswipe.’

The pole holds up a streetlight, and a traffic light, but there are no electrical wires attached to it. It’s a light standard, so the writer also doesn’t understand ‘power pole.’  The lone survivor was ejected through a rear window, which means he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, in contravention of the clearly-written Highway Traffic Act.  Stupidity, and lack of comprehension, carries the death penalty.

The next article spoke of ten intersections that would be closed for work on the new street railroad. They included King Street at Breithaupt, and King Street at Moore Ave.  This is where I worked for almost 20 years.  It’s only one location, another of Kitchener’s fabled K-intersections.  Two side streets each approach the main drag from opposing 45° angles.  Actually, Breithaupt runs into Moore, behind the McDonald’s, and only Moore reaches King.  Ten intersections closed??  I can’t count on precision.

A brief read, “Accident sends man to hospital south of Port Elgin.” There is no hospital ‘south of Port Elgin,’ but an “Accident, south of Port Elgin, sends a man to hospital.”

Then, on to the crossword, where the clue was ‘clammering up.’ Hmm??  Do they mean ‘clamoring,’ or ‘clambering?’  Apparently it was clambering, because the solution was ‘shinning,’ but clambering doesn’t mean shinning, in the same way that trotting does not mean galloping.

It’s only a little bit off??  I am bent on seeing this drivel – by which, I precisely mean that the sight of it doubles me up. Gaakk   😳

DRAWANAWARD

Ouroboros

Recently, Cordelia’s Mom bestowed a Versatile Blogger Award upon me.  I treasure it, as I have treasured every blog award given to me.  It’s always nice to know that someone indifferently highly regards me and my abilities.  It has also been fun revealing little things about me, and making fun of myself while I was at it – however….

Like Ouroboros above, the snake that eats its own tail, or the central character in Robert Heinlein’s short story, All You Zombies, I’m going to bring this tale to an end at the same place where we came in. CM’s award was the 15th that I’ve received in the last 4 ½ years.

It all started with another Versatile Blogger Award from The Kindly Hermudgeon, as a nudge to get me moving down the blog, blog, blogging trail, like the Easter Behemoth Bunny.  Since then, there have been many lovely awards, from many lovely fellow bloggers.

award-free-blog

For two main reasons, I have decided to make this an award-free blogsite. First, I feel I have run out of previously untold facts about myself, and don’t feel I have the creative ability to compose any more acceptance posts that are humorous, or entertaining – hell, I’d settle for vaguely interesting.

Second, most awards urge you to pick 10, or 15, other worthy sites to pass the blog-torch on to – and link to them – and notify them. That all sounds suspiciously like a job, and I got out of the job business over 6 years ago.

At least blog awards are a little more upscale than office chain letters. The wife used to hate them.  She had a work friend who was addicted to them, and was always ‘honoring’ her with a copy.  She refused to play along, and always returned them to her friend(?), with the instruction to ‘choose someone else.’

They’re as bad as some religions; always trying to guilt you into doing something you may feel is poor behavior and manners, and always with the threat of retribution over your head. “The last woman who broke the chain got old and fat, and had to go home and make supper for her husband and kids.”

My creative consultant, darling daughter, LadyRyl, @ RylsRostrum, designed The Award-Free flag above, and will install it for me – long-distance, remote-control – like piloting a drone. While it could have applied anytime, OCD me wanted it effective the first of the month.  Then I realized that ‘the month’ was April, and the 1st was April Fool’s Day (how appropriate), and that some of you might regard it merely as a prank.

To those of you who have gifted me with awards in the past, I say again, Thank You Very Much! You have made me feel loved, supported, included and respected.  To those of you who might feel in the future that I deserve a bit more recognition, I will acknowledge any award and its donor, and display it, but there will be no long speech (Pheww, you dodged a bullet on that one), no ‘big reveal’, and no ramification.  (Look it up!)

😀

Flash Fiction #89

Potty

PHOTO PROMPT – © Ted Strutz

I DON’T GIVE A SHIT

Danny’s bunch of guys were a good crew. Many of them had been with him since he started his own little construction/renovation company.

With a little ingenuity, a discarded toilet, and an old trailer, he provided a Porta-Potty for the men at work sites. He had it emptied every week, and definitely before he parked it in his driveway between contracts.  Still….his wife complained of the odor.  “If you don’t correct the problem, I’ll do something to make it smell nicer.”

And so, he came out to find this.

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

Taken For A Ride

Mafia

I got taken for a ride recently. Fortunately it wasn’t in the trunk, and I got to go home afterwards.  After 35 years of Snap, Crackle and Popping our spines, our erstwhile Chiropractor has decided to hang up his hands.

I recently published a post about being surprised at the number of people who are so nice to me/us, when I don’t feel that we have done enough to warrant it. After handing us off like a football at the Super Bowl, Doc Bones recently contacted me to ask if he could take me (and Shimoniac) out for lunch and a beer.

I hate to admit that I am sufficiently insecure and paranoid to wonder, “What’s he up to? Does he want me to buy his collection of Elvis memorabilia?  Does he have a condo time-share that he wants me to invest in?”

A year or so ago, a group named Everclear had a bit of a hit on the radio, called, “She Likes Me For Me.” I liked the idea, but thought it was a horrible condemnation of society that so many of us are fixated on what others wear, or earn, or drive, or where they live, (Beverly Hills 90210 e.g.) rather than what we are.

The little guy in the bar, trying to pick up the statuesque blond says, “I’m not really this tall. I’m sitting on my wallet.”

Apparently the BoneShaker likes me for me, although I’m not discounting the fact that (he and) his wife babysit a granddaughter three days a week, and he has gone from having a dozen clients per day to talk with, to zero.

He just needed to get out of the house and interact with real people. There’s no sense sitting at home and going crazy with cabin fever, when he can take us to lunch and go crazy with The Bear and me.

Lancaster Smokehouse

He took us to a failed hotel and bar, which has been re-opened as a liquor-licensed Barbecue restaurant. One of several places in town which feature Blues music, its heavy planked floor has old licence plates embedded in it.

Pictures on the wall show the original hotel, when it opened in 1948, with a B/A gasoline station across the road, and a two-woman motorcycle racing team.  Tee-shirts (on the wall, for sale, and on the waitresses) say, among other things, “We have the best butts in town.”

BA Station

A good time, and a great lunch, was had by all. If ever he wants an excuse to get out of the house again, I would be willing to volunteer.  I’d like to return the favor, but, with our finances, I’d only be able to take him out to Costco for some free samples.

You’re Fired!

Fire Truck

A blonde calls the fire department and yells,
“Help me, help me, my house is on fire!”

The chief replies, “Ok, how do we get there?”

The blonde says, “Duh, the big red truck!”

***

An English professor wrote the words,
“woman without her man is a savage”
on the blackboard and directed his
students to punctuate it correctly.

The men wrote:
“Woman, without her man, is a savage.”

The women wrote:
“Woman: Without her, man is a savage.”

***

One day, Bill and Hillary went out to dinner.
The waiter asked Hillary what she wanted. She said,
“I’ll have the steak, well done, potato, chicken
soup…” the waiter asked, “what about the vegetable?”

Hillary said, “Oh, he’ll have the same”.

***

According to my calculations, the problem
doesn’t exist.

***

You know things have gotten bad when you have to
fake your orgasms while masturbating.

***

It has just been discovered that research causes
cancer in rats.

***

She tripped over a cordless phone…

***

A guy walks into a bar – and says ouch!

Two blondes walk into a bar.
You’d think the second one would have noticed.

***

An economist is an expert who will know tomorrow
why the things he predicted yesterday didn’t
happen today.

Laurence J. Peter

***

An old man is on a park bench, crying. A concerned
pedestrian enquires, “Why are you crying?”
Old man: “I just celebrated my 85th birthday,
and I got married yesterday to an 18 year old
nymphomaniac blonde beauty who is all a man
could ask for”.

Pedestrian: “Then why are you crying?”
Old man: “I don’t remember where I live.”

***

A lady came up to me on the street and pointed at
my suede jacket. ‘You know a cow was murdered for
that jacket?’ she sneered. I replied in a
psychotic tone, ‘I didn’t know there were any
witnesses. Now I’ll have to kill you too.”

***

Why is it that when you transport something by car
it’s called a shipment but when you transport
something by ship it’s called cargo?

***

Two hydrogen atoms walk into a bar.
One says, “I think I’ve lost an electron.”

The other says, “Are you sure?”

The first says, “Yes, I’m positive.”

***

A neutron walks into a bar, and asks the bartender,
“How much for a rye and coke?”

The bartender replies, “For you, no charge.”

Flash Fiction #88

Restaurant

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

TO SERVE AND SUCCEED

“Aargh, have ya ever bin ta sea, Billy?”

We were a long way from the sea. Any pirates on that trickle of water would have to come by kayak.

I loved Roger like a brother, but sometimes he was so immature. As a chef, he was supposed to be creative – artistic, but we were here to assess this old restaurant.  It died because it had served country food to country folk.

It had the stream behind, and the glorious mountains in front. With a little promotion, a new day – and the hipsters – would come.  We would serve Attitude, and Flair!

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.